


Roman Holiday

by hangoverhater



Series: The One With The Spies [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action Vacation, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Dessert Appreciation, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Grumpy but BAMF Iwa, Hidden Badass Oikawa, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Problematic Ex, gratuitous Italian, my apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:53:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangoverhater/pseuds/hangoverhater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi and Oikawa are on a long-overdue vacation. If it's vacation time, Oikawa would just like to know two things: 1) Why does Iwaizumi have his pager with him, and 2) Why is said pager beeping?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> So now we get back to the "Now" in my scrambled timeline. So, all previous parts of this series have basically taken place before this. 
> 
> Glad we got that cleared up :) Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, there's a new character. I wrote him with Terushima in mind. So, OMC based on him. Yes. That is all.)

The weather was sunny and hot. People strolled on the streets, some casually, some in a hurry. 

Iwaizumi sipped his double espresso, enjoying the warmth as he watched people go about their daily business from behind his black, plastic-framed Ray Bans. 

Rome was maybe his third favourite city in the world. He’d been there a few times on different jobs, including his first-ever job outside of the States and Japan, so he was familiar with the layout of the place, but he’d never actually taken the time to just… sit and relax.

“Oh my god, Hajime, this tiramisu is phenomenal! You have to try this!”

He glanced at his companion, who sat on the other side of the small, round table in the outdoor café they’d stumbled upon after spending most of the day walking from one tourist-trap to another. It was fun, even if Iwaizumi kept mapping out exits and scanning crowds for possible threats. 

Oikawa was holding out a spoonful of dessert towards him with an expectant smile on his face. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, looking at him over the rim of his sunglasses as he leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon.

Damn. That was some good tiramisu. 

“That’s pretty good,” he commented as he leaned back with a smile. 

Oikawa beamed. “I know, right!” He exclaimed, continuing to devour his treat. “This is the best tiramisu I’ve ever had. The only one, actually, but I think it’s still the best one ever,” he rambled, almost moaning after another spoonful. 

Iwaizumi shook his head with a smile. “I guess you’ll just have to test that theory.”

With a laugh, Oikawa finished his dessert, sighing in delight after putting his spoon down once and for all. He leaned back in his chair and nudged Iwaizumi’s calf with his foot. “Hey,” he said, prompting the other from another short bout of crowd-scanning.

Oh right. Oikawa had said that it’s called ‘people watching’ when you’re on a vacation. He’d have to remember that.

“Hmm?”

“Why Rome? I mean, I’m glad we’re here,” Oikawa began, running his fingers through his hair as he fixed his sunglasses, “and I’m really, really glad we’re on an actual vacation, but what made you choose this city over the million others you must’ve seen?” 

Iwaizumi watched him fidget with his hair with a small, fond smile before deciding to indulge him. “We’ve only been here together once for a short layover – stop giggling, you’re a grown-ass man, for fuck’s sake – so I figured this might be a good choice,” he explained. “I guess I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

Oikawa smiled shyly, breaking their eye-contact in favour of watching a street performer juggle bowling pins across the street. “It is nice. More than, actually,” he said softly before glancing back at Iwaizumi. “I approve!”

Iwaizumi laughed. “Great, I was worried there for a minute,” he teased, finishing his espresso. 

They left the café after paying for their drinks and Oikawa’s tiramisu. They walked around for a couple of hours, Iwaizumi rolling his eyes to Oikawa’s obsessive selfie-taking habit. 

“Mattsun and Makki will be so jealous!” Oikawa cackled as he scrolled through the pictures he’d taken during the day. He found one great shot: They were sitting by a fountain, Iwaizumi had his arm around his shoulders as they both grinned for the camera. Iwaizumi’s glasses were askew from Oikawa smashing their faces together, and Oikawa could clearly see the spark in his eyes. He picked that shot to send to his friends back home. 

“Are you sending them pictures?” Iwaizumi asked, glancing at what he was doing. He’d met Oikawa’s old friends a few times during the year and a half he’d known the man, and he had to say, he liked the guys. 

He especially liked how ruthless they were when it came to picking on Oikawa. Iwaizumi had gathered so much blackmail material from the two that he probably could get Oikawa to do whatever the hell he wanted for years to come. 

“It’s the only one you’re not scowling in, of course I’m sending this one!”

He elbowed the taller man in the ribs, eliciting a small shriek.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki were also the thing one of their biggest fights had been about. 

Oikawa had wanted to tell his friends what he now did for a living, since they were ‘getting suspicious’. Iwaizumi could kind of see where the two men were coming from: their friend had disappeared for over two months, then suddenly moved and never invited them over, not to mention all the times he was ‘out of town’. 

As much as Iwaizumi would’ve wanted to tell Oikawa it was okay to tell them, he knew it wasn’t possible. If Oikawa told them the truth, the easiest way to guarantee their silence (they were a spy agency, after all) would be to have them sign some non-disclosure agreements, but what Oikawa had yet to grasp was the concept of safety. 

Iwaizumi just couldn’t guarantee that someone wouldn’t make the connection between Oikawa and his friends. Someone might use them as leverage, or worse. However unlikely that was, Iwaizumi was not about to risk the safety of two innocent people, who obviously meant a lot to his lover. 

So, as far as ‘Mattsun’ and ‘Makki’ knew, Oikawa was a consultant in the same company Iwaizumi worked at, and that their jobs entailed a lot of traveling. That was enough for now. 

The sun was beginning to set. Iwaizumi was about to ask if Oikawa wanted to go back to the hotel before going out to dinner when a familiar beeping noise came from his pocket.

Both of them froze. Oikawa slowly turned to glare at Iwaizumi. “Is that your pager?” He asked, voice deceptively calm.

Iwaizumi sighed. “It is.”

“Why do you have your pager with you on a vacation?” Oikawa continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know exactly why, Tooru,” Iwaizumi muttered, taking the small device out and shutting the beeping off. A number flashed on the small screen. Iwaizumi memorized it before looking around for the nearest payphone. 

Oikawa remained silent as they walked to a payphone in the corner of the street they were on. Iwaizumi put in some change before dialling the number, shooting Oikawa an apologetic glance.

The taller man pointedly ignored him. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, patiently waiting for the dial tone to stop.

“This better be good,” he growled the second the call was picked up.

 _“I’m so sorry to interrupt your well-earned vacation.”_ To his credit, Daichi actually sounded apologetic. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Iwaizumi muttered, glancing at Oikawa again. “What is it?”

_“I’m sorry I have to ask this, but there’s really no other way about it. An informant is flying from Kiev to Rome tomorrow at 7 o’clock. He’s heading for Morocco on the 8.30 flight, so I need you to meet him at the airport. He’s got a memory stick full of vital information. He says it’s too hot for him to keep it until he reaches our station in Casablanca, so we agreed that it would be best for him to drop the USB off somewhere along the way.”_

Iwaizumi nodded. “And since we happen to be along the way…” he trailed off.

_“Exactly. I know Oikawa has his laptop with him, it’s secure enough for you to send the intel to us through that. Once you’re done, you can format the flash drive and throw it into the Tiber.”_

With a sigh, Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was listening intently despite trying to appear like he was ignoring Iwaizumi. “Do you have your laptop with you?”

Oikawa nodded.

“Alright. I’ll get it done first thing. Who am I looking for?”

_“You’re not going to like this, but it’s Giancarlo.”_

“I take it back,” Iwaizumi growled, suddenly angry. “Fuck him. He can shove that stick up his ass for all I care.”

Oikawa looked startled by his sudden aggression.

_“Look, I know you’ve had… disagreements with him in the past—“_

“Disagreements?!” Iwaizumi snapped. “He shot me!”

In his anger, he didn’t see how Oikawa paled and visibly flinched.

_“I know, I know, but Marrakesh was years ago, and—“_

“You can’t seriously think he’s got something valuable,” Iwaizumi rubbed his temples. Even thinking about the bastard made his head hurt. 

_“He wouldn’t contact us if he didn’t have anything, you know that. He owes us enough to make him think twice about double-crossing us again.”_

“As I recall, it really didn’t take him that long the first time,” he muttered. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

_“At least try to be civil. I’d hate to have to send a clean-up crew to Fiumiciano.”_

“And of course the asshole picks the busiest fucking airport in the city. Text me his flight details, I’ll get you your stupid intel.”

_“Thank you. Again, I’m so sorry. Please tell Oikawa that, as well.”_

“We should get double-pay for—shit, I ran out of coins,” Iwaizumi cussed as the automatic voice asked him to add coins in soft, lilting Italian. He sighed, putting the receiver back with a bit more force than strictly necessary. He turned on his heels, catching Oikawa looking at him with a funny expression. “What’s with that face?”

Oikawa shook his head. “Nothing, Iwa-chan,” he shrugged. “What did he say?”

“An informant’s going to drop off a USB. We’re supposed to go collect it, send the intel back to HQ, and get rid of the stick,” Iwaizumi recapped as they headed back towards their hotel. “Oh, Daichi sent his apologies. As he should.”

Oikawa smiled quickly, not able to get a certain concern from his mind. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Iwaizumi replied absently, checking the flight details Daichi had sent him as they walked.

Oikawa winced, wanting to call Iwaizumi out on the unintended pun. “Exactly what I was going to ask you about,” he commented. “You said ‘he shot me’. Who is this guy?”

Iwaizumi shoved his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his neck self-consciously. “It’s kind of a long story—“

Oikawa stepped in front of him, almost making Iwaizumi walk right into him. “I’ve got time,” he responded, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

Iwaizumi stared at his lover intensely for almost a full minute before relenting. “Fine. Look, how about we go back to the hotel, get changed, and I’ll tell you over dinner?”

“Acceptable,” Oikawa nodded and stepped to the side gracefully, falling right into step with Iwaizumi when the man began walking again.

 

*

 

Oikawa was poking his (delicious) food, listening to Iwaizumi ask their server for more wine in smooth Italian. Once the server had left, he looked at the man opposite him. “I didn’t know you speak Italian.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Not a lot,” he said honestly. “Basically just enough to get wine, food, and a car. And how to convincingly sell a moped.”

“That’s a weird combination, but okay,” Oikawa smiled. He didn’t let himself be distracted, though. “I believe you were about to tell me a story.”

The server returned with another bottle of red wine, and Iwaizumi waited for him to leave before leaning in slightly. “I’m not gonna go into details, but to make a long story shorter: I’d been working for the agency for a few years. Daichi had just been made director. I was on my way home from a successful job in Tripoli when I was asked to pick up a package from Marrakesh.”

Oikawa listened intently, slowly moving his foot along Iwaizumi’s calf. 

Iwaizumi gave him a pointed look before continuing. “Giancarlo was this hot-shot guy from Sicily, where he’d had some dealings with the Cosa Nostra. He’d relocated to Marrakesh to work as our liaison, so I was instructed to meet up with him. I’d met him a few times on other assignments, so I was already familiar with who I was looking for.”

Iwaizumi took a long sip of wine. “When I landed, he told me the package I was there for wouldn’t arrive for two more days, so he invited me to stay at his place until I was good to go. Accepting was my first mistake,” he admitted. 

“My second mistake was getting into bed with him. We’d been hooking up on joint assignments every now and then,” he said bluntly, raising an eyebrow when Oikawa flinched. 

“In my defence…” he trailed off, thinking about it for a moment. “No. There’s really no defence for that fuckup,” he sighed eventually.

“Right. So, I called Daichi after lying low for a day. According to him, the package should’ve reached Giancarlo days ago. I ask him about it, he says the opposite. Imagine my surprise,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, having another sip. 

“Giancarlo fled. I ransacked his place, but since I didn’t find the package he was supposed to have, I chased after him. I found him selling it to another interested party. I crashed the scene, which led to the third party escaping without the merchandise. Giancarlo had it, and I chased the bastard all the way across town. Before I knew what was happening, I was in an alley without a soul nearby.”

Iwaizumi loosened the grip he’d had on his wine glass. “He shot me. Right here,” he patted the spot on his left side, just over the two lowest ribs. “Punctured my lung. I was lying there, bleeding, and he steps up, puts a cigarette in my mouth and says _‘Ciao, tesoro,’_ and fucks off with the box,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Oikawa’s brain connected some dots he wasn’t aware his mind had put a pin on. “That’s why Daichi’s always suspicious if you’re smoking on the phone,” he stated, looking at Iwaizumi for confirmation.

Iwaizumi nodded. “I don’t remember answering my phone, or even talking to him. All I remember is that cigarette, choking in my own blood, and watching that son of a bitch walk away before everything went dark.”

He drained his glass, pouring himself another. “I woke up in a hospital in Casablanca. Daichi was there. Giancarlo was long gone. End of story.”

Oikawa reached across the desk and rested his hand on Iwaizumi’s. “Hajime,” he started, but found he didn’t know what to say.

Iwaizumi understood. He gave Oikawa a lopsided smile. “I haven’t seen him since, but I’ve kept an ear out to make sure we don’t cross paths, because I just might kill that asshole,” he muttered. 

Oikawa smirked. “Well, now you’ve got me. Listen. Tomorrow, we’re going to the airport, grab the USB from him, beat him up in the men’s room, and continue our vacation as planned,” he outlined with a dramatic flair. 

Iwaizumi chuckled, lifting their joined hands from the table and kissing Oikawa’s knuckles. “I like that plan.”

 

*

 

In Oikawa’s honest opinion, being in an airport at seven in the morning was way too early. He hated the crowds, he hated the overly-cheerful personnel, and he especially hated the eight separate coffee shops. 

Iwaizumi had given him the option to stay at the hotel to sleep in, but he’d insisted he tag along. He wanted to see what this Giancarlo-person looked like, and hopefully find out what had attracted Iwaizumi to him. (He refused to believe it was a case of situational horniness.)

Instead of meeting him at the gate, they’d taken seats in one of the ridiculously expensive cafés near the gate. Iwaizumi had reasoned that Giancarlo would have to take this route to get to his next flight, so there was no point in waiting around in a crowd. Plus he needed coffee. 

Oikawa yawned, stirring his latte absently. Soon enough, Iwaizumi perked up across the table from him, prompting him to look over his shoulder.

If it was who Oikawa suspected it was, he could totally see ‘situational horniness’ happening. The man was tall and physically in good shape. He had blond hair with an undercut, and Oikawa could see glimpses of piercings in his ears. He was dressed casually in dark jeans, blue and green shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. 

The man walked right up to them, confirming Oikawa’s suspicions about his identity. His grin was wide and cheerful, despite the early hour. He stopped by their table, looking down at Iwaizumi in delight. _“Tesoro!”_ He exclaimed, leaning in and ruffling Iwaizumi’s hair. “If I’d known you’d be here waiting for me, I would’ve come sooner!”

To Oikawa’s delight, Iwaizumi grabbed the hand and twisted slightly, making Giancarlo hiss and pout at him. 

“ _Caro,_ why’re you being so cruel?” He whined, calling out an order for a cappuccino to a passing server before sitting down to their table. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m still a little sore from getting shot,” Iwaizumi hissed, glancing around to make sure no one heard. 

Giancarlo shrugged, thanking the server excessively when she brought him his drink. “That was years ago. I thought we were past all that unpleasantness,” he smiled.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oikawa, Giancarlo. Giancarlo, Oikawa,” he introduced them instead of rising to the bait.

Oikawa held out his hand for a shake, and blinked in surprise when Giancarlo kissed the back of his hand instead. “Pleasure is all mine, _bello,_ ” Giancarlo purred, smiling at Oikawa seductively.

Too bad Oikawa was A) too tired and B) too in love with Iwaizumi to respond the way Giancarlo was probably expecting him to. Instead of acknowledging the unexpected kiss, he looked at Iwaizumi with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? This guy?”

Iwaizumi shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup. “I had lower standards back then.”

Giancarlo let go of Oikawa’s hand, looking back forth between them with a frown. “Are you…?” He trailed off, waggling a finger between them.

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa. “You could say that,” he agreed, finishing his coffee. “Enough chit-chat. Where’s the flash drive?”

Giancarlo ignored him, turning to Oikawa. “How do you stand that grumpy attitude?”

“Easily. I tend to keep him satisfied enough to keep the grump at bay,” he stated, looking at his nails in mild disinterest. 

Giancarlo stared at him for a beat before bursting out laughing. “I like this one, Iwaizumi!” He grinned, leaning back casually. “You should keep him on a leash, I might try to steal him.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “He’s way out of your league. The USB?”

Giancarlo produced the small device from his pocket, dangling it from his fingers. He pulled his hand back, however, when Iwaizumi made a grab for it. “Not so fast, _tesoro._ ”

Iwaizumi glared daggers at him. “First of all, stop calling me that. Secondly, give me the fucking stick before I pry it out of your cold, dead fingers.”

“I need some assurances before I hand this over,” Giancarlo stared back unflinchingly. “The people I took this from, they aren’t happy with me. I need protection.”

“Isn’t that why you’re going to Casablanca?” Iwaizumi growled.

Giancarlo nodded. “I have a safehouse there. The minute I give this to you, I lose whatever leverage I had. I want you and your no doubt armed self protect me until I board the plane there.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No deal. Have fun with that,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out to Oikawa. “Let’s go.”

They took two steps before Giancarlo was up with them. “Come on, Iwaizumi!” He whined, matching their pace easily. “For old time’s sake!”

Iwaizumi whirled around and barely managed to keep himself from punching the man’s lights out. “If you think I’ve forgotten our ‘old time’, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not even on the clock now. I’m on a fucking vacation, and you think I’m going to do you any favours? Hell. No.”

Oikawa observed the situation from a step away, keeping a steady hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He saw Giancarlo realize just how serious Iwaizumi was, and how the man relented. 

The blond slipped the USB into Iwaizumi’s pocket with a small smile. “You’re on a vacation? I’ve never heard of you taking an actual vacation instead of sick leave,” he pondered, looking at Oikawa over Iwaizumi’s shoulder for a moment before patting his shoulder. “He must really be something, eh, _caro?_ ”

Iwaizumi smirked. “You could say that.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, Oikawa patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder hurriedly. “Iwa-chan, is it just me or do those two guys look like they’re heading straight for us?”

Iwaizumi looked at where he was nodding to while Giancarlo glanced over his shoulder. “ _Merda!_ ” The man cursed. “They’ve been following me from Kiev!” 

Iwaizumi groaned in annoyance, shoving Giancarlo to the opposite direction. “You moron! Do you not know how to lose a tail?!”

Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand. “Come on, we have to run!” 

The three ran towards the nearest emergency exit, Iwaizumi keeping an eye on the two men chasing them. They reached the staircase and made their way down two stories before Iwaizumi spotted the maintenance entrance to the parking hall. “In there!” He pointed, rushing to the door and checking if it was open.

It wasn’t. If it had been, he would’ve been very surprised at the lack of security in such a large airport. Had the door been unlocked, he might’ve had to send a strongly-worded letter to airport security. Anonymously, of course.

The situation being what it was, he could hardly be blamed for kicking the door in. He glanced at Oikawa, wordlessly nodding towards the other side of the hall while dashing to the opposite direction. He grabbed Giancarlo by the scruff of his neck, pulling him along with him. “Stay quiet, and stay down!”

It was a move he and Oikawa had executed successfully many times. They’d take different routes to their car, switching between hiding and running. Since theirs was a rental car, Iwaizumi had no doubt that it would go unrecognised. 

Halfway to their car the same maintenance door was slammed open. Iwaizumi immediately crouched between two cars, seeing Oikawa do the same on the other side of the hall. They glanced at each other before turning their attention to the two men running in the middle of the driving lanes. 

Iwaizumi gestured with his hand. Oikawa nodded. Giancarlo looked confused, so Iwaizumi motioned for him to hide behind a Mercedes for the time being.

They slowly moved so that they’d remain unseen while the two walked past them. Once they were a car away, the two agents moved behind them in a few silent steps. Within seconds, they had their pursuers in similar chokeholds from behind. Iwaizumi made sure to turn the man he was currently asphyxiating into unconsciousness away from Oikawa, so their faces wouldn’t be seen up close. Iwaizumi was fairly certain that while they’d been seen from a distance, they probably couldn’t be identified. 

Oikawa had done the same, Iwaizumi noted with some pride. He kept improving at this job.

Once the two were unconscious, they quickly dragged them behind a dumpster, so it’d take a while for anyone to see them. After tying the men up with their own zip ties (Iwaizumi had to give them credit for carrying those things with them), they ran the rest of the way to their car.

They didn’t speak until they were well on their way back to the city. 

Giancarlo, sitting in the backseat, let out a huge sigh of relief. “That was a close one!” He laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “You are very impressive, _caro._ I knew you’d only get better the longer you were in the business!”

Iwaizumi glared at him through the rearview mirror. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled briefly before turning his attention to Oikawa. “You okay?” He asked quietly.

Oikawa nodded. “I’m fine. You?” 

Iwaizumi took the USB out of his pocket with a nod, looking at the small device with interest. “What’s on this that’s so important?” He glanced at Giancarlo again.

The man shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to—“

“Do not pull that shit with me. We just stuck our necks out for you and your goddamn intel, you’re telling me exactly what’s on this fucking USB before I ditch your ass on the road!”

“You were told to send it forward, yes?” Giancarlo glared at him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

*

 

They returned their car before walking back to their hotel, taking every small street and the longest possible route. Oikawa had whined about it for a moment, but Iwaizumi had silenced his whines by telling him to shut up and check they weren’t being followed. Giancarlo remained suspiciously quiet.

Once they were safely in their room, Iwaizumi gave the USB to Oikawa and picked up his phone to call Daichi. Giancarlo stretched out on the bed, relaxing easily.

_“Iwaizumi? Did everything go—“_

“Giancarlo’s with us, you need to find him a new flight. We’ve got the USB. Oikawa’s uploading the data now,” he said quickly, sitting on the bed and watching Oikawa work, not-so-subtly punching Giancarlo in the shin while at it. The man’s outraged gasp was only mildly satisfying. 

_“Shit. Are you okay?”_

“We’re good. Two guys were following him, we left them tied up behind a dumpster at the airport.”

_“Nice to know you’re showing restraint. I can’t exactly say I’m surprised. If this intel is what he said it is—“_

Oikawa beckoned Iwaizumi to come see what he’d found on the USB, so he stood up, leaning over Oikawa’s shoulder to read the information on the screen. “Daichi. What are we looking at here?” He asked after a moment of silence, interrupting him.

_“What you’re looking at is a list of Interpol agents involved in a human trafficking ring.”_

“Shit,” Oikawa breathed, looking at the list of names, pictures, and other vital bits of information with wide eyes. 

“This is way above my paygrade,” Iwaizumi said, astonished. He glared at Giancarlo, who only nodded grimly.

Oikawa nodded his agreement, scrolling through the files. He pointed at two pictures. “These are the guys from the airport.”

“We’re sending this to you,” Iwaizumi said, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t think they got a good look at us, but if these guys are Interpol, it’s not going to be much of a stretch for them to get a hold of airport security and see their tapes.”

_“We’ll relay this to our contact in Interpol. Sean’s a good man, he’ll make sure all these agents are apprehended as soon as possible.”_

Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a wry grin as he dug out the emergency cigarettes he’d stashed into his luggage. “Great. Can you make sure they get these guys first? Oikawa’s tagging them now,” he nodded to Oikawa and stepped out to the balcony to smoke. “We’ve still got a couple of days left, I’ll be damned if we skip town any earlier than we have to.”

Daichi laughed. _“I’ll see that they do. Try to enjoy your vacation, yeah? I’m sorry about all this.”_

“It’s fine, I guess it’s in the job description,” Iwaizumi commented, lighting the cigarette and enjoying the first inhale thoroughly.

_“Are you smoking?”_

“I’ve had a stressful morning, get off my case. You’re the one who’s still up at, what 2? 3 am?” Iwaizumi glanced up as the balcony door opened and Oikawa stepped outside, closing the door after him and sitting down next to him. 

_“Sleep is not on the top of my list of priorities right now. If it’s any consolation, both your files should be classified, so even if they tried to look you up they wouldn’t find anything. I’ll let you know when they’ve been caught, keep your head down. Please try not to kill Giancarlo while we try to think of a way to get him to Casablanca.”_

“Will do,” Iwaizumi replied, hanging up and pocketing his phone. 

Oikawa leaned on him, burying his nose into Iwaizumi’s hair. “What’d he say?”

“They’ll forward the intel on and let us know when those guys are in custody. Daichi said to keep our heads down, and to try not to kill Giancarlo,” Iwaizumi put his arm around Oikawa, bringing the man a little bit closer. “I’m sorry it’s not even 9 am yet and today’s already a shit-show.”

Oikawa snickered, poking him in the ribs. “At least we’ve got an excuse not to leave our room today,” he suggested, giving Iwaizumi’s ear a small bite for emphasis.

Iwaizumi turned towards him and leaned in to—

“Oi, your laptop is doing something!”

Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed and his eye twitched. “Can I just kill him now, to get it over with?”

Oikawa chuckled, resting his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. “No, Hajime.”

“Just a little?”

“Not even a little,” Oikawa denied, standing up and heading back inside.

Iwaizumi shook his head, leaning back on the bench and watching the city bustle four stories below them. He lifted his legs up and set his feet on the wrought-iron railing, trying to relax. 

 

“I hope you don’t mind me bumming one off you,” Giancarlo’s cheerful voice interrupted his peaceful self-contemplation.

He glanced up as Giancarlo stepped well over his legs to sit down next to him. One of his cigarettes was dangling from his lips. 

Iwaizumi’s brow twitched. “Since I still can’t put a bullet in your brain, I guess I don’t,” he said gruffly, going back to ignoring Giancarlo. 

The other laughed smugly, shaking his head. “Still with the bullets in my brain? Are you never going to let that go?”

“See how you like choking in your own blood, then come talk to me about letting things go,” Iwaizumi glared at him, old anger surfacing as memories flooded his mind.

That actually shut Giancarlo up, much to Iwaizumi’s delight. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then held it out in front of them speculatively. “Did you know that was my first cigarette? The one you gave me before walking away?” He looked at Giancarlo, raising an eyebrow. “I’d never even touched tobacco before that. Not even when I was in the army.”

Giancarlo looked back at him, a look passing across his face that Iwaizumi couldn’t recognize.

“If I’d had a choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have done what I did,” Giancarlo said, much to Iwaizumi’s surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Before Iwaizumi had a chance to reply, the sliding door to the room was opened. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa poked his head out through the doorway, getting Iwaizumi’s attention immediately. “Did either of you order room service?” He asked, looking mildly perplexed. 

Iwaizumi frowned, glancing at Giancarlo. When the man shook his head in confusion, Iwaizumi swore quietly. “Come here, keep an eye on him,” he said quietly, stubbing out the cigarette and pulling Oikawa away from the door.

He stepped into the room just as another knock rang out. _“Room service!”_

“Just a minute,” Iwaizumi replied, shoving Oikawa’s laptop into its bag and putting the strap over his shoulder. He tip-toed to the door and looked through the peephole. There were two men out in the hallway, and they definitely weren’t hotel staff. 

He was regretting not bringing a gun. Luckily, he remembered leaving himself a little stash into a nearby church in case of emergency. This was definitely something along the lines of one. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, though.

He stepped back out, Oikawa and Giancarlo watching him in anticipation. He pointed down. “Not room service,” he simply said, giving Oikawa’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before handing the laptop bag over to him. “Stay here, as much out of sight as you can.” He gave Oikawa a short kiss before heading back inside.

He looked around the room for anything he could use. He settled for grabbing the heavy-set phone from the side table, and stood against the wall next to the door.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Another two kicks and the door flew open, effectively hiding him. He waited until both men were inside before he smashed the one who’d entered last in the head with the phone.

The man dropped with a pained groan, out of the game for now. His partner whirled around on his heels and pulled his gun on Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi swung the phone again, knocking the pistol out of his hand. He dodged a desperate attempt at punching him easily and broke the man’s nose with the phone. 

The two men were now both down, one unconscious and the other wailing and holding his bleeding nose. Iwaizumi put the phone back on the table, closing the door and picking up the gun before stepping up to the man. “How’d you find us so fast?” He asked, pointing the gun unwaveringly at the man’s head. 

The man coughed. “You didn’t think we might’ve had a tracker planted on him?” 

Iwaizumi promptly hit him with the butt of the gun. As quickly as he had done that, he’d turned the gun’s barrel back towards the man. “Where’s the tracker?”

“As if I’d tell—“

Iwaizumi hit him again without a word. Then he crouched down with a sigh. “You know, you’re really starting to piss me off. Here I am, trying to have a vacation for once, and you and your little friend here show up and fuck everything up,” he tilted his head. “I’m really tempted to just shoot you both in the face and be done with it.”

 

Oikawa and Giancarlo were out on the balcony, listening to every word said in the room. Giancarlo glanced at Oikawa, nodding towards the room. “He’s not very happy, is he?”

Oikawa huffed. “Understatement of the year,” he replied, clutching the laptop bag. When they heard a cry of pain, Oikawa flinched.

Giancarlo gave him an appraising look. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Oikawa asked wryly.

Giancarlo stifled a laugh, nodding. “You’re not like him. He’s the type that will kill without hesitation, while you…” he trailed off with a calculating look. “You probably wouldn’t hurt a fly. You look like an accountant.”

He was genuinely surprised when Oikawa laughed quietly. 

After Oikawa recovered, he nodded. “You have no idea how right about that you are,” he shook his head. “Truth is, I may not be cut out for this job, but I’ll be damned if I let him do this alone anymore.”

They waited in silence until Iwaizumi called them back in. The only evidence of intruders were a few bloodstains. Oikawa looked at his lover questioningly, to which the man replied with a shrug.

“I tied them up. They’re in the bathroom,” he explained, sitting down on the bed and pointing at Giancarlo. “They’re your problem now.”

Giancarlo blinked. “Why, exactly?”

“Because if you didn’t have a tracker on you, they wouldn’t have found us,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “In fact, if you would’ve chosen any other destination than Casablanca, we’d still be in bed, sleeping,” he continued, standing up and fixing Giancarlo his coldest stare. “Shortly put: Not my fucking problem.”

Oikawa stepped up between them, smiling at Iwaizumi. “Easy there, Iwa-chan. Close your eyes, take a deep breath,” he set his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, watching as the man did as he asked, “aand exhale. Daichi will call soon enough with instructions on what to do about him, until then, we’re going to be nice and civil.”

Iwaizumi stared at him for a moment before nodding. Oikawa patted his shoulder happily and turned towards Giancarlo. “I’m sorry about this,” he said with mock-sincerity before punching him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened when Oikawa’s fist struck Giancarlo’s nose. He masked his laughter with a cough when Giancarlo whined about his nose bleeding. 

Oikawa turned back to Iwaizumi with a grin. “I’ve wanted to do that since last night,” he said excitedly.

 

*

 

Daichi called back around an hour later. Iwaizumi frowned when he answered. “It has to be 4 am by now. Go to sleep,” he said instead of greeting him normally.

_“I’ve had a lot of coffee, so I don’t see that happening yet. Okay, so I spoke with Sean, he said to tell you that he’s sending two agents to find the ones following Giancarlo. They should arrive within the hour.”_

“And you’re sure they’re not on the list?” Iwaizumi double-checked. He didn’t really feel up to fighting and punching his way out of Rome yet. 

_“We checked three times, Sean ran about four checks himself, so yeah. I’m sure.”_

Iwaizumi winced. Daichi sounded frustrated, not to mention sleep-deprived. “Sorry. Um, you can just tell them to come straight to our hotel. We’ve got them tied up in the bathroom,” he glanced into the bathroom, where two pairs of eyes glared back at him. He waved cheerfully at them.

_“What?! How did that happen?!”_

“Apparently someone planted a tracker on Giancarlo, so they didn’t even need to check the security cameras at the airport,” he replied, grimacing when he heard the distinct sound of a palm hitting a forehead.

_“Of course. Speaking of Giancarlo, we set him up for a flight to Casablanca at 12.30. You can ask the Interpol guys to take him, if you want?”_

Iwaizumi looked at Giancarlo, who was busy teaching Oikawa how to cheat at poker. “I think we’ll take him, if that’s alright. I kind of have this unyielding need to see him get on a plane and fly the hell away from us.”

Giancarlo sent him a wink and blew him a kiss. Oikawa slapped him upside the head swiftly, holding up a chastising finger. Iwaizumi smiled.

_“Understandable. Alright, try not to kill each other for a little while longer. I’ll send you the IDs of the agents who’ll be coming to pick up your, um… detainees. Once they’re gone and Giancarlo’s on the plane, you can resume your vacation.”_

“Affirmative,” Iwaizumi nodded. “We’ll get it done, boss. Now can you please go take a nap or something?”

_“You know, I was going to pay you guys double for this, but I’m starting to revise that thought.”_

“What, you’re breaking up, I can’t hear you,” Iwaizumi hung up quickly, tossing the phone on the bed. He sat down on the edge of the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This morning was giving him a headache. 

“Good news, Interpol’s sending two agents to pick them up,” he pointed his thumb towards the bathroom. “They’ll be here within the hour. You’re going to be on the next plane to Casablanca, which conveniently leaves at 12.30,” he nodded towards Giancarlo. 

Giancarlo pumped his fist into the air. “ _Fantastico!_ And I assume you will drive me to the airport?” He winked at Iwaizumi again.

Iwaizumi responded to the wink with a deadpan stare. “Yes. Because as much as I’d like to see you get what’s coming to you, I’m going to be the adult here, do my job, and watch you fly the hell away.”

Giancarlo held a hand over his heart theatrically. “You are a cruel, cruel man.”

Oikawa shook his head cheerfully. “No, he just doesn’t like you.”

Giancarlo gasped in outrage, looking at Oikawa in shock, to which the man replied with a shrug.

Iwaizumi went into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet lid, watching the two tied-up men glare at him from their seat at the bottom of the bathtub. Their mouths were covered with duct tape. Iwaizumi was glad he’d thought to pack a small roll of it. 

“Guess what,” he said cheerfully, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “Your ride’s going to be here soon.”

One of the men mumbled something. Iwaizumi tilted his chin up. “Hmm? What was that? ‘Thank you for arranging a nice ride for us, you’re so nice, friendly, and way better at hand-to-hand than either of us’? Aw, thank you. I almost feel bad about knocking you out with a phone,” he said faux-apologetically. 

He stood back up, stretching his arms over his head. “Then again, you did have it coming, interrupting my vacation and all,” he shrugged, walking back out.

Giancarlo looked up when he re-entered the room. “ _Caro,_ I’ve just had a brilliant idea!” He stood up, spreading his arms wide. “Since he is your _innamorato_ , and you and I used to entertain each other…” he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Iwaizumi frowned. “Where exactly are you going with this?”

Giancarlo winked. “ _Facciamo l’amore,_ Iwaizumi. For old time’s sake.”

 

*

 

When the two men Daichi’s Interpol contact had sent arrived, Iwaizumi checked their IDs thoroughly before letting them in. “Sorry about the third degree,” he apologised when he opened the door. 

“Don’t worry about it, considering what’s happened this morning you’re better off being…” The senior agent forgot what he was saying when he spotted Giancarlo sitting in the corner, his wrists, feet, and mouth duct-taped. 

He pointed at Giancarlo, who looked slightly upset about something. His nose had apparently also bled at some point. “Do I want to know what happened there?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Just that it was well-deserved.”

The agent nodded, accepting Iwaizumi’s non-existent explanation. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Jacobs, this is Parker.”

Iwaizumi shook hands with both of them. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Oikawa,” he pointed his thumb towards the man sitting on the bed, waving to them cheerfully in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jacobs smiled. “So, where are you keeping them?” His expression turned slightly darker. 

Iwaizumi could understand what they were probably feeling. Finding out your co-workers were actually working for the other side couldn’t be pleasant. “Here,” he said, motioning towards the bathroom. 

Jacobs and Parker pulled their former co-workers out of the tub. “Thank you for apprehending them,” Jacobs nodded to Iwaizumi and Oikawa as he put the two men in handcuffs. He could’ve taken out the zip-ties after, but decided against it. 

Iwaizumi nodded back. “It was no problem.”

Jacobs took a white card out of his pocket and handed it to Iwaizumi. “If you ever need a favour, give me a call.”

They shook hands once more before the four men left, leaving Iwaizumi and Oikawa alone with Giancarlo. Iwaizumi checked the time from his phone. “It’s quarter past ten. We’ll leave at 11.30 at the latest, that should give you enough time for find where you’re going,” he said to Giancarlo, who nodded as a reply.

Iwaizumi looked at him, weighing his options. “If I take the tape off, will you continue to say stupid shit?”

Giancarlo shook his head fervently. 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I’ve got no problem tying you up again, keep that in mind,” he grumbled, crouching down to cut the tape from Giancarlo’s wrists and ankles. He ripped off the tape from his mouth, rolling his eyes when the man whined. “You’re a grown man, stop whining.”

“And here I thought you might’ve mellowed down over the years,” Giancarlo muttered, rubbing his wrists to get his circulation back on track. “Apparently I was mistaken.” He bummed another one of Iwaizumi’s cigarettes and stepped out onto the balcony.

“Apparently,” Iwaizumi replied, sitting down next to Oikawa on the bed. “How are you doing?”

“Starving,” Oikawa answered with a grin. “Can we go to that café again after we drop him off?”

Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. “You just want that tiramisu again, don’t you?”

“It was delicious, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sighed, flinging himself down on his back dramatically. “Like heaven on a spoon!”

Iwaizumi poked his side. “Maybe we’ll get some actual food instead of just dessert,” he huffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a yawn.

Oikawa nudged him. “You should take a nap. There’s plenty of time.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’m fine. Pretty sure I couldn’t sleep if I tried,” he nodded towards the balcony.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Oikawa sat up and pushed gently on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “At least lie down and shut your eyes for a few minutes, Hajime.”

They engaged in a short staring contest until Iwaizumi gave up. He toed off his shoes and shuffled on the bed until he could lie down comfortably. “Fine. But you’re buying today,” he muttered, pulling the thin sheet over himself before closing his eyes.

Oikawa smiled victoriously and leaned down to press a kiss on Iwaizumi’s temple. He got off the bed and decided to go outside with Giancarlo. 

 

The Italian glanced at him when he emerged from the room and quietly pulled the sliding door shut. It didn’t escape his notice that Oikawa didn’t fully close the door, but left it open enough for sound to travel through uninhibited. 

He waited until the man had sat down before turning to him. “How long have you two been lovers?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

Oikawa had to think about it for a moment. “One year, four months,” he estimated. “We’ve known each other for a year and a half, so that’s fairly accurate.”

Giancarlo blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Really? I’m surprised. I didn’t think he was that type of a man.”

“What type?” Oikawa frowned in confusion. 

“The type to have someone to come home to,” Giancarlo said simply. “And to keep coming back to them for as long as he has.”

Oikawa was quiet for a moment. “Why do say that?” He looked down to the street, where people went about their business. He leaned over to peek into the room, and was pleasantly surprised that Iwaizumi actually seemed to be sleeping. The soft snoring was enough of an indication, anyway.

Giancarlo stubbed out the cigarette, leaning against the wall. “Because I asked him once. If he wanted to make our little arrangement something more… permanent. He said no.”

He stretched his shoulders before crossing his hands behind his head. “The next day, I shot him. I do still feel bad about that,” he admitted. “I’m glad he didn’t die.”

Oikawa bit his lip to avoid yelling at him. 

Giancarlo looked at him with a smirk. “I’m also glad he has you now.”

“Is that so?” Oikawa clenched his jaw.

“Yes,” Giancarlo nodded. “Because you are making a terrifying face right now. Makes me second-guess my first impression of you, Accountant.”

Oikawa snorted. He directed Giancarlo a look that would’ve frozen the blood in his veins had it been physically possible. 

“Maybe you aren’t entirely wrong to do so.”

 

*

 

“…wa-chan?”

“Hmm?” Iwaizumi frowned as he opened his eyes and saw Oikawa staring down at him. “Did I fall asleep? What time is it?” He sat up with a quiet groan, rolling his shoulders.

“It’s eleven,” Oikawa was grinning weirdly. “We should get going, so this guy doesn’t miss his plane!” He pointed his thumb at Giancarlo, who waved at Iwaizumi cheerfully.

“Right,” Iwaizumi muttered, rubbing his face. 

As he drove the newly-rented Fiat, Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the feeling that some of the tension between Oikawa and Giancarlo had seemingly evaporated. It was fucking weird. And slightly intimidating. Especially with how smug Oikawa was being.

“Stop that,” he smacked Oikawa’s hand away from his ear. It was distracting.

“Don’t wanna,” came the childish retort. 

“What are you, five?” He shook his head, almost missing the exit to the airport. “Fuck!” He ignored the honks from the other drivers when he made a sudden turn to the correct lane.

“You should’ve let me drive, _caro_ ,” Giancarlo piped in from the backseat. 

“Yeah, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa happily agreed.

“What the fuck?!” Iwaizumi was now truly and utterly lost. “Are you ganging up on me? How long did I sleep?” He looked at Oikawa incredulously.

Oikawa smiled sweetly. It freaked Iwaizumi the fuck out. 

“Let’s just say we came to an understanding about certain things,” his lover said cryptically, making it clear that the topic was now closed for business. 

 

*

 

Iwaizumi was even more suspicious than before when Giancarlo offered to buy them coffees and “anything you want, _caro!_ ” from the café near his departure gate.

“Don’t look so suspicious, Iwaizumi,” Giancarlo tsked him, handing him a plate with two cannolis. “It’s just a small token of my appreciation.”

Oikawa seemed content enough to devour his cannolis, so Iwaizumi relented. He ate one of the cannolis in front of him, offering the second one to Oikawa. 

Oikawa’s eyes sparkled as he eagerly accepted. Iwaizumi couldn’t understand how the man still didn’t have cavities. 

Giancarlo’s chuckle distracted Iwaizumi from watching Oikawa inhale the sweet, ricotta-filled pastries. “What?” He grumbled, taking a sip of his espresso. 

Dammit. Even airport coffee was good in Italy.

“Nothing, nothing,” Giancarlo smiled, raising his cappuccino slightly in a toast. “Sweet tooth?” He motioned at Oikawa, who was ignoring them in favour of delicious cannolis. 

Iwaizumi nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he put his elbow on the table and rested his jaw on his palm as he watched Oikawa. “Better than tiramisu?” 

“Never,” Oikawa said around a mouthful. “I’ll marry that tiramisu, don’t think I won’t.”

“I’ll walk you down the aisle, then,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “Someone has to give you away.”

“It’ll be so romantic! I’ll wear a tuxedo, the tiramisu will wear white, you’ll make the coffee,” Oikawa gestured excitedly. “It’ll be the best day of my life.”

“You’re mental,” Iwaizumi couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He was dating this fucking dork.

Giancarlo listened to their ridiculous conversation, watching Iwaizumi with a smile. It was painfully obvious that the grumpy, almost humourless, commitment-abhorring agent he had met years ago in Sicily was a mere memory.

His musings were interrupted when he heard his flight called. He finished his cappuccino with a smile. “As amusing as this is, I’m afraid I have to leave,” he said apologetically, standing up. 

Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa stood up as well. “Goodbye, Giancarlo,” Oikawa shook the man’s hand with a smile. “It was certainly interesting to meet you.”

“Likewise, Oikawa,” Giancarlo nodded, turning to Iwaizumi. 

He didn’t expect Iwaizumi to shake his hand as well. But he did. Giancarlo blinked.

“You owe me. Big time,” Iwaizumi said, looking him directly in the eyes. “If you ever fuck up my vacation again, I will hunt you down and hang you with your own intestines.”

Giancarlo didn’t doubt him. “I’ll keep that in mind, _caro. Arrivederci!_ ” He smiled, blowing Oikawa a kiss before walking away with a flippant wave.

Iwaizumi sighed. “Good fucking riddance,” he muttered, finishing his coffee. “Are you done?” 

Oikawa glanced at the very empty plate in front of him. “Uh-huh!” He linked their arms together, leaning on Iwaizumi with a grin. “So, lunch?”

“Lunch,” Iwaizumi agreed.

They walked out of the café, arms still linked. “Hey, Hajime?” Oikawa asked suddenly. 

“Yeah?”

A hand appeared on his ass. Iwaizumi started re-thinking his life choices again.

“I think we could get the tiramisu to go. Or two of them. Yeah, two sounds good. One for dessert, one for… _dessert_ ,” Oikawa leered.

“…We’ll see.”

“That’s a ‘yes’, then!”

 

 

Giancarlo stood by the gate, watching the two walk away. He smirked. 

“Sir?”

He turned to see a flight attendant look at him questioningly. 

“May I see your boarding pass?” She asked. “The plane will depart soon.”

He glanced back at Iwaizumi and Oikawa quickly before turning back to her with an apologetic, charming smile. “No, I think I need to change destinations after all.”

He walked away from the gate, taking his phone and a small, button-looking round thing out of his pocket. He dropped the button into a trash bin he passed on his way out. He dialled a number he'd memorised weeks ago and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello? The intel's sent forward. What do you need me to do next?"

**Author's Note:**

> "Facciamo l’amore" basically means "let's make love", so you'll understand why Iwa might've felt the need to shut him up.
> 
> Giancarlo AKA Terushima's kind of crawled up under my skin and made a nice little house there. He may or may not appear again.
> 
> I'm still working on another longer addition to this series, I think I'm around halfway done? So hopefully I'll get to posting it. It'll be kind of a sequel to this one. Anyway, thanks for reading! :)


End file.
